


How to Get Out of a Speeding Ticket

by halcyon1993



Series: The Kinky Adventures of a Wolf and His Boy [38]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Cock Worship, Come Eating, Come Marking, Deputy Derek Hale, Dom Derek Hale, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, Facials, First Meetings, Hair-pulling, Handcuffs, Humiliation, Large Cock, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sub Stiles Stilinski, Top Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 15:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16267025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon1993/pseuds/halcyon1993
Summary: When Stiles gets caught speeding, he is desperate for his dad not to find out about it. He offers to give anything to the sexy-as-hell deputy who pulled him over if he'll just rip up the ticket. Deputy Hale decides to take Stiles' tight little ass.





	How to Get Out of a Speeding Ticket

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stuckstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stuckstar/gifts).



> As always with this series, don't judge me for the depravity I have written…

"Fuck, this can't be happening," Stiles hisses under his breath.

Lights flash in his rearview mirror, telling him to pull his Jeep over to the side of the otherwise deserted road. He glances at his dashboard and his eyes widen when he sees where the needle is on his speedometer. He's going much faster than he realised. Such inattentiveness on the road isn't like him at all, but somehow he doesn't think the deputy trying to get him to stop will accept that and let him go. Stiles wishes he could just keep driving and ignore the lights, but he can't. With much reluctance, he pulls over and turns off the engine, already envisioning the ass-kicking his dad is going to give him when he finds out about this.

And there's no way he won't.

His dad is the fucking sheriff, and the son of the sheriff should know better than to speed. But here he is, and such carelessness is going to result in him getting a ticket that his dad will make him pay himself, and he'll probably get grounded for the rest of his life.

Great.

Stiles takes a deep breath to calm himself. There's no use freaking out. He'll just have to take his medicine and learn a lesson from this.

When the deputy who pulled him over gets out of his cruiser and approaches the driver's side of Stiles' Jeep, Stiles lowers the window before he can knock. Returning his hand to grip the wheel, his knuckles white, he turns to look and immediately forgets what he was going to say because…fuck, the deputy is the most beautiful man he has ever seen. The deputy must be new, because Stiles doesn't recognise him and he'd _definitely_ remember if they'd met before.

He has short, artfully messy hair on his head, and framing his jaw is a neatly trimmed beard. Both are dark, but here and there his bristly facial hairs have started to turn grey, which Stiles finds incredibly attractive. His eyes are an entrancing shade of hazel, his nose is a thin blade and his lips look soft and kissable. Beneath his ugly uniform, which he somehow manages to pull off, Stiles can tell that the deputy is in fantastic shape. Large muscles stretch out his beige shirt, and his black trousers are tight enough to show off the shapeliness of his legs and a substantial bulge at the crotch, promising a monster of a cock beneath.

Stiles gets so caught up in staring that he doesn't realise he is being spoken to until fingers are snapped in his face.

"Sir? Are you okay?" the deputy asks him, his voice low and smooth.

"Shit, sorry!" Stiles squeaks, attempting to regain his mental faculties and failing. "I'm here."

"License and registration, please."

Unwrapping his fingers from around the steering wheel is painful, but Stiles does it, retrieves both items and passes them through the open window. As he does so, he reads the tag pinned above the badge of the deputy's chest and notes that his last name is Hale.

Hale glances at the requested documentation before meeting Stiles' gaze again. "Do you know why I pulled you over?"

"Because I was going too fast."

"That's right. I'm going to have to write you a ticket. Wait here."

When Hale walks back to his cruiser, Stiles taps his fingers nervously against his knees and prays that it's not too expensive. Before he knows it, Hale is back with a small piece of paper in his hand, and Stiles feels panic suddenly grip him, sending his heart racing. Apparently there was a part of him that was hoping this wasn't real, but seeing the ticket in the deputy's hand brings reality crashing down on him. He doesn't take the ticket when Hale proffers it. Instead, he opens his mouth and speaks before he can think better of it.

"Please tear it up!" he begs, looking with pleading eyes up at the bearded man's face. "If my dad finds out, he'll kill me!"

"That's not my problem, Sir," Hale says.

"Please! I'll give you whatever you want! Just tear it up."

Stiles is sure he's just wasting his breath. There's no way the deputy will actually do what he asks, and why would he? To him, Stiles is nothing more than a stranger, and he's only doing his job. That doesn't stop Stiles from begging a bit more, though. By the time he's done, Hale looks at him with an odd expression on his stupidly attractive face. Amazingly, he cocks his head to the side and asks him another question:

"How far are you willing to go?" Hale's eyes gleam with dangerous intent.

Stiles gulps. "As far as you want. I said I'd give you anything and I meant it."

Hale glances down at the ticket still in his hand and, after a few tense seconds, he shreds it. The tiny pieces are carried away by the light breeze, and then it's like the ticket never existed.

"I know what I want," he says darkly, his gaze promising something bad. Or maybe something good.

"W-what?"

"Follow me. We're going somewhere we're less likely to be seen."

The deputy's tone brooks no argument, so when he disappears to his cruiser again and drives ahead of Stiles, Stiles turns his keys in the ignition of his Jeep and tails him. They drive for a few minutes, getting farther out of Beacon Hills until they reach a turnoff onto a road that's bumpy and unmaintained enough to jostle Stiles in his seat. They venture down this road for a while, until they reach a rusted gate that is shut and doesn't look like it's been opened in years. Stiles doesn't know where the hell they are, and briefly he wonders if this is really a good idea or if he has just driven to his death. But then Hale is at his window again and it's too late to back out.

"Get out," the deputy orders him. He opens the door himself before Stiles can even think of reaching for the handle on the inside.

"I'm coming," Stiles says quietly. Once he is standing, he notes that they're the same height. "What now?"

"You wanna know what I want from you?"

Stiles nods jerkily.

Hale smirks, spins Stiles around, shoves him face-first up against the side of his Jeep and then crowds in behind him.

"I'm gonna fuck you," Hale whispers. "And you're gonna let me so your daddy doesn't find out how naughty you've been. Understand?"

Because his voice doesn't seem to want to work just then, all Stiles can do is nod. The thought of getting pounded by the tall drink of water behind him, of losing his virginity to him, is almost too arousing for Stiles to withstand.

"Good." Hale's breath blows hot over the shell of Stiles' ear. "Before I do that, though…"

The heat of Hale's body leaves Stiles a moment later. He goes to turn back around, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

"Stay."

The command is clear and concise. Stiles goes rigid and stares at the trees he can see over the roof of his Jeep as Hale fiddles with something behind him. He hears the clinking of metal, and then the deputy pulls both of his hands behind his back and fastens the cold metal around his wrists, binding him. Stiles tugs against the restraints and realises what they are: handcuffs. Deputy Hale is using his handcuffs on him, and it's so damn hot that, if he wasn't already on board with what's about to happen, he would be now. While he has never before found someone who wanted to have sex with him in real life, he has watched _a lot_ of porn in his time, and the majority featured some element of bondage or BDSM. It's too good to be true, but true it is.

With the cuffs secure, Hale turns Stiles back around and pushes him down to his knees. This puts the deputy's crotch right in his face.

"I'm gonna fuck your face first, make you choke on my cock so hard you'll cry."

Hale unbuckles his belt, pulls it through the loops of his trousers and drops it to the ground next to Stiles. But then he does nothing else. He just stares down at Stiles, expecting something that the teenager can't figure out.

"Well?" Hale asks him, fisting one hand in his hair.

"Uhh…"

"Unzip me."

"But my hands—"

Hale rolls his eyes. "You don't need your hands. You've got a big mouth. Use it."

Comprehending now, Stiles' breath hitches and, impossibly, he gets even more turned on. "First…can you tell me your name?"

"Why?"

"I wanna know what to call you."

Hale raises an eyebrow, and for a moment Stiles thinks he isn't going to answer. But then the deputy sighs like it pains him and speaks again. "It's Derek, but for now you'll call me 'Sir'."

Were Derek's hand not still fisted in his hair, Stiles would nod. As it is, he commits the name to memory and, with his gaze still locked to the deputy's, he brings his face forward until his nose touches black fabric. Already he can smell him. The scent of Derek's sex is potent, filling Stiles' nostrils from the very first breath he draws in. It's musky and dirty, and Stiles absolutely loves it. He nuzzles Derek's crotch more forcefully to get more of it and only stops when the deputy pulls his hair.

"You're not doing as you've been told," he says. "Do I have to forget our deal and write you another ticket, boy?"

Making a distressed noise, Stiles peers apologetically up at him. "No, Sir. I'm sorry!"

"If you're really sorry, then get to unzipping. My patience is running out. Here; I'll even be nice and undo the button for you."

Once that's done, Stiles fumbles to grab the tab of the zipper between his teeth. He has both seen and read about people doing this very thing before, and they always make it seem so easy. It's anything but. Stiles probably looks like an idiot as he noses the flab of fabric covering the zipper to the side and fails in his first few attempts to do as he has been instructed. The only reason he doesn't give up is because the expression on Derek's face never changes into something annoyed. There's impatience there, but there's also desire. Stiles can deal with that.

When, finally, he gets the tab between his teeth, Stiles pulls it slowly all the way down and is glad when Derek doesn't make him open the crotch flaps as well. Derek does it for him, revealing a pair of dark-grey boxer-briefs beneath that struggle to keep their owner's cock contained even though it's still soft. Stiles shoves his face right in there and breathes deeply again, enjoying how the scent of Derek's sex is even stronger with one less barrier between it and his nose. The deputy allows him this indulgence for a few moments, and then another sharp tug on his hair reminds him that he hasn't accomplished his mission yet.

He still has one last item of clothing to get out of the way, and the waistband of the boxer-briefs is easier to latch onto than the zipper tab. Stiles tugs them down as far as the trousers will allow him, until Derek's soft cock and heavy balls are out and on full display.

"Like what you see?" the deputy asks him, smugness radiating from his entire being.

"Yeah…" Stiles breathes. He really does.

He has seen other guys' junk in real life, usually in the locker rooms at school or the local pool, but he has never been so close before. And he knows he's going to be touching it too, very soon.

"You're really desperate for me, aren't you?" Derek chuckles. "What a slut."

Stiles doesn't know where the words come from, but he finds himself responding with, "Your slut." The way Derek growls is all Stiles needs to be sure that he said the right thing.

"It's not gonna suck itself," the deputy points out.

Not wanting to disappoint, Stiles licks once over the foreskin-covered head of Derek's dick and then takes the whole thing in his mouth. While soft, it isn't too much to take. He sucks on it and wiggles the tip of his tongue experimentally beneath the foreskin, playing with it, and soon enough he starts to feel blood filling Derek's length. It swells at an alarming rate, until Stiles has to release it so that he doesn't choke. Derek said he was going to make him choke, but he must be taking it easy on him while he gets familiar with his dick because he doesn't yet force his cock back in his mouth. No longer sucking, Stiles instead runs his lips up and down the growing shaft until Derek is fully hard.

Then he leans back to look at him again. His mouth drops open out of shock.

"Damn…"

Derek smirks. "Big enough for you?"

"Yes, Sir," Stiles responds, a thin trail of drool leaking from the left corner of his lips.

Derek's cock sticks out from the nest of dark curls at the base at an approximate length of nine inches. Even while hard, the foreskin still partially covers the head, and at the slit a droplet of viscous pre-come forms. Stiles watches as it gets bigger and then drips onto the ground between Derek's feet. Some fluid is left behind, hanging in a thin strand that swings in the breath Stiles expels from his open mouth. All of it makes for such a hot image that he doesn't need any encouragement to get his mouth back on Derek and worship his cock like it deserves.

Stiles gives the deputy the best blowjob he can. He hasn't had any practice, but from the way Derek moans and his fingers tighten in Stiles' hair, he thinks he must be doing a good enough job despite this. He is so addicted to the taste of Derek, to having the heavy weight of a big cock on his tongue, that he doesn't ever want this to end. He longs to free his hands and touch the deputy as well, to grab onto his hips or fondle his hairy balls, and the fact that he can't, that the cuffs keep his arms behind his back and there's nothing he can do about it, just makes everything that much better.

While Derek is letting him control the blowjob for now, Stiles knows that Derek is really the one with all the control. He wouldn't want it any other way.

Eventually, just as Stiles swipes his tongue over the slit to taste more of Derek's delicious pre-come, the deputy untangles his fingers from his hair and instead holds both sides of Stiles' head in his large, calloused hands. This forces Stiles to stop with just the tip of Derek's cock remaining in his mouth. He is confused, but when he opens eyes he hadn't realised he'd closed and looks up at Derek's face, what he sees there erases his confusion. The facade of control the deputy had permitted Stiles to have over the proceedings is about to be taken away.

Sure enough, in the next second, Derek pushes his cock forward until the head bumps into the back of Stiles' throat, and then he keeps going. Stiles' throat convulses in an attempt to push out the intrusion, but it's futile. Derek doesn't relent and instead keeps himself there until Stiles' eyes are watering and his face is turning a dangerous shade of red. Only when Stiles thinks he is close to passing out does Derek retreat, and even then it's only temporary. He gives Stiles just enough time to regain his composure, and then he shoves his cock right back in Stiles' throat, even further this time.

The last two inches he hadn't forced inside the boy's mouth before make it this time, ending with Stiles' nose buried Derek's coarse pubes. He tries to breathe through his nose, the only way he can hope to get more oxygen into his deprived lungs. It works enough, and finally he gets to smell Derek's musk without anything diluting it. It was worth the wait. The scent is strong enough, so masculine and filthy, that Stiles is certain that Derek has exerted a lot of energy over the course of the day, chasing down criminals and such, and any irritation he'd had he is about to work out by giving Stiles the punishment his careless driving deserves.

Even though it has barely happened, Stiles believes that what Derek will do to him will serve as a far better deterrent than a speeding ticket.

After a few seconds of being held with his nose in Derek's pubes, the deputy withdraws again and then fucks right back inside. But he doesn't stay this time. He sets up a fast rhythm, his hands still holding Stiles in place while he fucks his mouth as promised. All Stiles can do is clench his hands into fists at the small of his back, hold on for the ride and fill his lungs with just enough air to survive every time Derek pulls back his hips. Drool runs from the sides of his mouth, drips down his chin and soaks into his T-shirt. Tears run down his cheeks, making his face a total mess.

Stiles loves it, can't get enough of how his mouth is being used like a sex toy.

Eventually, Derek's fast thrusts somehow both increase even further in speed and become less coordinated, his balls smacking into Stiles' chin as he approaches orgasm. Stiles braces himself, and more saliva leaks from his stretched lips because he really, really wants to taste Derek's come, to have his mouth and then his stomach filled with the warm, salty fluid. But he doesn't get it. Stiles can tell that Derek is a single thrust away from coming when he pulls all the way out of his mouth and backs up a few paces, a hand clamped around the base of his cock.

Disappointed, Stiles sucks in greedy lungfuls of oxygen and then, when his chest doesn't burn quite so much and his tears have stopped, he pouts at the deputy.

Derek scoffs. "Don't give me that look. I told you I was gonna fuck your ass too, didn't I? Can't do that if I blow my load too early."

Stiles still feels disappointment, but he _does_ want to know what that massive cock will feel like inside his virgin hole. He sucks his bottom lip back into place and waits patiently for Derek to calm down enough to release his cock. The thick length is shiny with a combination of spit, tears and pre-come.

When the danger has passed, Derek's gaze becomes heated again and he returns his fingers to Stiles' hair, which is evidently his favourite place to put them. He pulls forcefully to get Stiles to stumble to his feet, and then he walks him around to the front of his Jeep. Stiles doesn't even think about fighting back as the deputy makes him bend over the hood, his cheek pressed to metal that is still warm from the engine and his ass sticking out. Derek reaches around Stiles' body to undo the button and zipper of his chinos, and then he shoves both those and Stiles' underwear down his legs. Both articles of clothing end up in a tangle just above Stiles' knees, a makeshift restraint that holds his legs just as immobile as the cuffs keep his arms behind his back.

Stiles hears movement behind him, and then he feels one of Derek's hands on each of his ass cheeks as they are pulled apart, revealing his most intimate place.

"Such a pretty little hole you've got here," Derek remarks.

Stiles doesn't have to crane his neck and look behind him to know that the deputy is the one on his knees now and is looking right at him. Being appraised like that should make him squirm uncomfortably, but he apparently has a thing for exhibitionism he hadn't discovered before today because all it does is send a fresh wave of arousal through his whole body. He even arches his back to press back into Derek's hands.

The deputy chuckles at his eagerness. "And it's slutty. You ever had anyone touch you here before?"

Stiles' tongue is unwieldy in his mouth, but he is able to get out a choked, "No."

"That's surprising." Derek traces around Stiles rim with his right thumb, making it clench up even tighter. "With how you practically begged me for this, I figured you're one of those whores who bends over for any guy who so much as glances their way."

Stiles shakes his head. "No…I'm a virgin."

He hears something like a growl behind him, and then Derek speaks again: "Good. I like knowing I'm the first person you'll ever feel inside you."

Stiles gasps when something wet presses suddenly against his opening. The shock of it means he doesn't figure out that it's Derek's tongue for several moments, but when he does he moans and arches his back even more, so much that he thinks he might end up snapping it before they're through. Derek just chuckles again and goes back to rimming him.

The deputy is an expert. Every lick and prod has more moans, whines and whimpers pouring from Stiles' lips and his hands reflexively clenching and unclenching at his back. He wishes he had something to grab onto to keep him grounded, but all he can do is fly as Derek points his tongue and slips the tip past Stiles' tight rim, eliciting the teenager's loudest moan yet. The sound echoes between the trees that line the forgotten road. He is incredibly thankful that Derek insisted they went somewhere more private for this, otherwise someone would have definitely heard how much he is enjoying getting rimmed. No wonder all the bottoms in porn always look like they've found heaven.

Derek eats him out for a long time, alternating between wet, sloppy licks and more controlled swirls of his tongue. Stiles can feel saliva dribbling down his perineum and dripping down his balls, which are drawn up tight to his body. His cock is painfully erect, so close to going off like a geyser. If only he could get some friction on it, but with Derek's hands holding his hips in place, there is no way for Stiles to get any. He can only take the pleasure that's given to him.

Just when Stiles is about to become so frustrated that he might start crying again, Derek gets back to his feet and leans over him.

"I'm gonna fuck you now," he says. He lazily rocks his hips so that his cock glides between Stiles' spit-slick cheeks and the head grazes Stiles' cuffed hands.

"Sir…"

"Beg for it."

With a plaintive noise, Stiles angles his face so that their eyes meet. "Please, want your cock so bad. Want you to fuck me so hard I can't walk afterward."

"Yeah? You want me to pop your cherry?"

"Uh-huh. Wanna feel your come running down the backs of my thighs for the rest of the day."

Somewhere in Stiles' head, lessons that have been drilled into him about practicing safe sex resurface, but he dismisses them. He doesn't give a damn. All he wants—all he _needs_ —is to feel Derek's bare cock splitting him open, his warm come filling him up, marking him from the inside out.

"You're a total come-slut, aren't you?" Derek murmurs, biting the lobe of Stiles' ear.

"Y-yes! Your come-slut…"

"Good. Good boy."

Without warning, Derek's weight leaves him and Stiles feels the bulbous head of his cock demanding to be let inside. He breathes deeply to relax his body in hopes of lessening the pain he knows is coming. Just a few minutes of rimming, good though it was, won't be enough to adequately prepare his virgin hole for something as monstrous as Derek's dick. But, like not using any form of protection, he doesn't give a single shit.

He'll take whatever Derek sees fit to give him and thank him for all of it.

In the next second, Derek shoves forward so that the head of his cock pops past Stiles' rim. The air is filled with the combined sound of Derek's throaty moan and Stiles' hoarse scream. The scream tapers off into a high-pitched whine that he would be embarrassed about had he the mental capacity for it. As it is, Stiles' whole world has narrowed down to the burning in his ass as Derek forces his way inside with short, unremitting thrusts, each of which works another inch of his substantial length into Stiles' body.

By the time Derek's hips meet Stiles' cheeks, the teenager has his face turned into the hood of his Jeep as he sobs brokenly. It hurts a lot, both because his ass wasn't prepped properly and they are using spit as a shoddy substitute for lube, but even so, between Stiles legs his cock sticks out as hard as ever.

Apparently he's a masochist as well as a come-slut and an exhibitionist.

The more you know.

Mercifully, once he is buried to the hilt, Derek gives Stiles some time to recover. He strokes his hands up and down Stiles' shaking back and whispers soothing words to him, displaying a level of tenderness that had been hidden until now.

Stiles doesn't know what to think of it. He'd believed that all Derek was was an asshole—a sexy asshole, but an asshole all the same. After all, what kind of man would agree to fuck an underage kid in the ass in exchange for ripping up a parking ticket? Not a good one, that's for sure. And yet the kindness that Derek is suddenly showing him has Stiles reconsidering. There is clearly more to him than meets the eye, and when Stiles stops shaking and his tears cease, part of him is interested in seeing what other layers the deputy is hiding.

Seeing that Stiles has calmed, Derek runs his hands down his back once more and then keeps them on Stiles' hips as he withdraws his cock.

For Stiles, the pain is still there, but it has lessened considerably since the initial penetration, and there is even pleasure beneath it now, colouring it in a way that almost makes it enjoyable. The sensation of Derek's cock sliding over his inner walls is sensual in itself, and it only gets better when the deputy pushes back inside, starting up a slow rhythm that again displays the care he is capable of.

"Sir…feels so good…" Stiles mumbles, his breath fanning out over the hood of his Jeep.

"Yeah? You like how my cock feels inside you?"

"Mmhmm. So big."

Derek chuckles. "I like how you feel too. Your hole's so fucking tight, but it's not gonna be after I'm done with it, is it?"

"N-no."

"It's gonna be all loose and swollen, all used up. It's gonna be _mine_!"

The possessive declaration is followed by a snap of his hips that takes things from lazy to frenzied at the drop of a hat. Stiles cries out as his no-longer-virginal ass is assaulted, as Derek grips his hips so tightly that he'll leave bruises and he fucks his cock in and out of Stiles' hole at such a rapid pace that Stiles barely has time to lament any emptiness he feels before it's back again, filling him up in that perfect way he is sure he'll never get enough of. The roughness of the deputy causes Stiles' cock to smack against his shirt-covered belly, leaving pre-come stains on the fabric. The stimulation is just a tease, hinting at orgasm but never delivering it.

In between thrusts, Derek changes up the angle and manages to strike Stiles' prostate every other time. The sounds Stiles makes get more and more needy with every thrust, until his eyes are clenched shut and he would give anything to be able to come. If he could just get some proper stimulation; anything else would do. But there is nothing, just his T-shirt every time the tip of his cock smacks against it, and the empty air between him and the front of his Jeep. He almost wrenches his shoulder out of its socket when he tugs to get free of the cuffs locked around his wrists, desperate to wrap a hand around his dripping cock and bring himself off while Derek fucks him.

But the handcuffs are the real deal and don't give at all.

"Sir, I need to come!" he wails.

"Patience, pet," Derek huffs behind him, his breathing laboured. "Soon."

With a broken sob, Stiles bangs his forehead against the thin metal beneath him and then goes limp, giving in. He won't get to come until Derek does, that much he can figure out, and a man like Derek must have a lot of experience and therefore a lot of stamina. Stiles gets the sinking feeling that he won't be permitted to come for a while yet.

Fuck.

It could go on for another five minutes, or for another five hours. Stiles doesn't know. He doesn't know anything anymore, just sinks into his mind and rides the pleasure Derek gives him, until the deputy's thrusts become uncoordinated in a way he recognises. The same thing happened when Derek was fucking his face, which must mean that Derek is getting close to shooting his creamy jizz up in Stiles' guts. To help him along, every time the deputy pulls out of him so that just the head of his cock remains inside, Stiles flexes his inner muscles and squeezes him tight. It has its intended effect, Derek's short nails digging into his hips hard enough to draw blood as he loses all finesse and just fucks Stiles with wild abandon.

Just before Stiles thinks the deputy is about to tip over the edge, he pulls out all the way and manhandles Stiles back into the position he'd been in before. Stiles' knees hit the road hard. The pain jolts him out of whatever daze he'd been half-submerged in, and he blinks blearily up at Derek.

The bearded man stands inches from him, working a hand over his cock so fast that it's a blur. Instinctively, Stiles tips his head back slightly and opens his mouth, creating the perfect canvas for Derek to mark with his come. There is a small part of him that's saddened about not having his ass filled with the stuff, but this was what he'd wanted initially, so he can't complain.

He'll finally get to taste Derek's seed.

"Here it comes!" Derek warns him, right before his balls draw up and his cock explodes.

Stiles closes his eyes just in time to avoid getting anything in them. He kneels there obediently as jet after jet of thick come splatters across his face. It's practically a deluge, and Stiles is both amazed and baffled as to how one man could produce so much come with a single orgasm. Some of it gets in his mouth and pools on his tongue, and the salty bitterness is already intense. He longs to close his lips and swirl it around, to savour it, but he doesn't. Not yet. There's still more jizz to collect, so he doesn't move at all until Derek sprays him with his release a final time and groans tiredly, signalling the end of his abnormally prolonged orgasm.

Now that it's safe, Stiles cracks his eyes open and stares up at Derek's sweaty face as he shuts his mouth and makes a show of enjoying the taste of him. The viscous fluid feels strange at first, thick and unlike anything else that Stiles has ever had in his mouth. But he gets used to it quickly and moans unabashedly, revelling in being every bit the come-slut Derek had said he was earlier.

Derek comes down from his high just in time to see Stiles swallow. "I knew it," he says, giving the boy a satisfied smile.

"You were right, Sir," Stiles confirms, licking his lips. "It's awesome."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm. Want more. Can you help? Please?"

Stiles thinks it's the begging that does it. Derek's eyelids flutter, and then he swipes a finger through the mess on Stiles' cheek and feeds him more of his come.

"Thank you, Sir," Stiles says earnestly, sucking it off of Derek's finger.

"You're welcome, pet."

For while they continue this, but Derek stops before all of his come is in Stiles' stomach.

"Sir?" Stiles asks, bemused.

"I like how you look with my seed on your face, so I'm gonna leave some of it there. And you're gonna leave it there until you get home too. Understood?"

Stiles shivers, imagining driving back to his house and rushing up to his bedroom with Deputy Hale's come still drying on his skin.

"Yes, Sir," he assents. He feels amazingly naughty.

"Good boy."

The deputy tucks himself back into his underwear, does his trousers back up and retrieves his belt from the ground before beginning to walk back to his cruiser.

"Sir!" Stiles calls after him. "What about me?"

Derek keeps walking, doesn't even look back as he says, "Calm down, pet. I'm just getting the keys to the cuffs."

Mollified, Stiles kneels there until Derek returns, keys dangling from one finger.

"Hmm, someone hasn't come yet, have they?" the man observes, eyes glued to where Stiles' cock is curled up hard and aching against his belly.

"No, Sir. Can I?"

"I suppose."

Stiles thinks that Derek is going to undo the cuffs so he can get himself off, or maybe that he'll be generous enough to crouch down and do it for him. But neither of those things happen. Instead, Derek places one of his legs between Stiles' and orders him to hump it like an animal. It's so degrading that Stiles considers disobeying, but then he figures, who is he kidding? Even something like this, which should be degrading as hell, is something that turns him on.

So Stiles doesn't protest. He even thanks Derek as he goes to town, humping the deputy's leg like a male dog in need of a bitch to breed.

It doesn't take him long, and then he stains the leg of Derek's black trousers with his release.

"Clean it up, bitch," Derek tells him, unimpressed. "I can't go back to the station with your come on me now, can I?"

Still panting with pleasure, Stiles hastens to obey. "No…sorry, Sir."

He sucks his own come from the material of Derek's trousers, leaving it wet with his spit instead of his come. When he is done, Derek steps behind him and unlocks the cuffs. Stiles' wrists are red and raw from how hard he'd fought against them in the throes of passion, but it's a pain he likes. It's proof of what happened, and he'll be sad when the marks fade.

With his cuffs back, Derek is apparently done with him. "This was fun, kid," he says. "See you around."

With that, he returns to his cruiser and drives away, leaving Stiles kneeling in the middle of the road with Derek's come still on his face.

* * *

A week later, Stiles is in a rush as he walks into the Sheriff's Station to drop lunch off for his dad. He'd spent a good hour making some chicken salad, so he is immensely glad when he enters his dad's office and sees that he isn't too late to stop the man from getting something unhealthy instead.

"Here, dad," he says, depositing the plastic container on the edge of the sheriff's desk.

His dad looks up from the forms he'd been poring over and smiles at him. "Thanks, son."

"You're welcome. I'd stay and chat, but I've gotta run. Scott and I are going to the movies and it's gonna start soon."

"Okay. Have a good time."

"Will do!"

Stiles spins on his heel and hightails it out of the sheriff's office, but when he gets out into the bullpen he is swiftly sidetracked.

Deputy Hale sits at his desk and stares at him from across the room. His eyes are wanting.

Stiles takes a shaky breath and recalls what happened between them. His dick twitches in his underwear.

They stare at each other for almost a full minute before someone bumps into Stiles and breaks the connection. Stiles apologises to Deputy Parrish as he skirts around him, and then he looks back at Derek to find him still looking as well. Derek smirks at him and gives him a wink before lowering his gaze. Even though no words were exchanged, something about the interaction leaves Stiles with no doubt in his mind that their relationship won't be limited to a single tryst that lasted an hour on an old road in the middle of nowhere.

As he leaves the station, anticipation has Stiles' stomach churning and his heart beating faster.

He can't wait.

**Author's Note:**

> And yet again I couldn't stop myself from giving this a hopeful ending. I just can't seem to leave things between our boys as a one-time-only deal. I love them together too much for that, even when I've characterised Derek as I have here. Let your imaginations run wild, but I like to think that, eventually, these versions of our boys will work things out and end up living happily ever after together. That's the way things should always be between them, as far as I'm concerned. Anyway, I'd like to say a huge thank you to Stuckstar for giving me this prompt. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be. :) 
> 
> Stay tuned for my next PWP, in which Stiles summons what he hopes will be a fearsome Lovecraftian monster. He is disappointed when he gets Derek instead, but appearances can be deceiving. Top!Derek/bottom!Stiles.
> 
> To see what else I have coming up soon, check my list [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/887604). I'll be updating it regularly.
> 
> **P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future fics go live, which will all be Sterek. And please check out my past fics if you haven't already and are interested.**


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